Famous For Nothing
by LeopardGecko
Summary: Single daughter of a young and wealthy pureblood clan, 11-year-old Silveriat Raines is caught in the midst of battles between her parents' political games and her own idealistic development. When an extra parchment falls from her acceptance owl, she receives a shock to find that the Dumbledore of 1938 is completely unaware of the letter written to her regarding a particular orphan.
1. How do Owls Know?

**Alright, I'll cut to the chase. You clicked on this hopefully to read it, so I won't hold you back. This chapter is short, I realize. I have a lot more written but I'm looking for feedback so I can edit it to fit whatever ya'll who review seem to like/want, as well as plot development critiques.  
This is my first fanfiction, so, let me have it. Be as mean or nice as you want, just be truthful.  
**  
_x-x-x-x-x-x_

Silveriat Raines was exactly eleven years old the day she received her letter from Hogwarts. It was a breezy sort of morning, yet the 1938 sun beat down on the Raines household with a sort of roguish ferocity. The heat was of little consequence to Miss Raines, however, as the small girl lay stretched across the cool cobalt cover of a bed, golden hair fanned about her head like a lion's mane. The day would appear quite normal to anyone else, but to young Miss Raines, it was one worthy of a frantically beating heart, fluttering near her stomach like tiny insect wings.

The first disturbance to the seemingly average May morning was a tiny _scritching_ noise at the window, like sharp claws sliding smoothly down the framed glass. Silveriat Raines flew up in a bolt, heart now pushing its way into her throat.

"Mum! It's _here!_" Her shout was shrill, and the handsome Tawny Owl perched atop the outside windowsill blinked, fixating thick yellow eyes upon the source of the noise.

Silveriat skittered to the glass in a rush, causing the brown-and-black speckled bird to rustle its wings uncomfortably as she fiddled with the latch. The window burst open with a soft 'pop', allowing the owl to step cautiously onto Silveriat's dresser before sticking out one leg, staring pointedly at the parchment envelope tied by a thin string. Shivering with anticipation, Silveriat sucked in a shaky breath before untying the letter, fumbling with the intricate knot. The owl sighed patiently, the rowan feathers on its chest ruffled as it looked at her with a sort of robust sympathy. She smiled shyly, assuming it had sat through such a process too many times to count.

"Sorry Mr. Owl," she murmured softly, "I've never gotten my own mail before." The owl hooted gently in response, clicking its beak once as if to say '_it's okay_!'

_Thumpthumpthump._ At the sound of dainty footsteps pounding up the stairs the owl swiveled its head, wary of the sudden intrusion. The navy door swung open with a creak, and Silveriat's lips thinned with mild distaste.

"Silver. Your owl has arri-? Ah." Her mother's voice was frosty and feminine, almost cat-like in nature. Its owner stood framed in the door, chocolate hair falling neatly over lukewarm eyes. A lavender robe hung across the woman's thin shoulders, drawn right up to her angled chin.

"Well go on then. Open it." A slight smile marred her cool expression, hinting at the carefully controlled affection Katrina Raines held for her daughter. Silveriat nodded slowly, green eyes wide as she stared at the envelope. Addressed in deep sapphire, the tiny script seemed to glisten against the cream of fresh parchment.

Miss S. Raines  
The Blue Room  
23 Kennings Way  
London

Silveriat had always wondered _how_ owls always knew exactly where to fly. She supposed it was magic of course, but maybe at Hogw—

"Silver, why is that owl still here? Disgusting birds always fly off as soon as you've gotten your letter." Silveriat creased her brow, emerald eyes calculating. The owl in question turned its gaze to Mrs. Raines in a glare, large amber eyes smoldering. Silveriat did not miss the gesture.

"Mum! They're not exactly _stupid_! Be nice to the poor thing." Behind Silveriat's back, Mrs. Raines rolled her eyes, but let out a rather fake affronted sniff for her daughter's benefit.

"Fine. The great and mighty, largely intelligent masters of wisdom are usually gone at this point. Better?"  
The owl continued to glare.  
Silveriat sighed with annoyance and returned to her letter, heart racing back to a frantic drum roll. As quickly as she could manage, the golden-haired girl separated the letter and envelope, blinking as two other sheaves of parchment drifted to the floor. _I'll pick them up in a minute_, she mused, unfolding the thick paper at hand. She began to read aloud.

_Dear Miss Raines,_

_I am quite pleased to understand you have been accepted into Hogwarts and would like to congratulate you personally. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is an excellent place of learning, and I dearly hope you shall meet many new friends at our facilities. I would like to direct your attention to one student in particular, however, and would so kindly ask that you mind him the benefit of your friendship._  
_The student's name is Tom Riddle. I have no doubts you will stumble across him at some point this year. I will divulge no further information, but must stress the importance of your remaining vigilant in your efforts to befriend young Mr. Riddle._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_  
_Deputy Headmaster_  
_'A single light may charm a room from black to grey' - Merlin_

By the end of the letter, Silveriat's tone had shifted from one of nervous anticipation to confusion. _What was that all about?_ The girl glanced at Mrs. Raines, eyes shining with a stunning curiosity.

But her mother's demeanor had changed.

While Mrs. Raines was normally a distant woman, her composure had frozen into something icy, and her face fostered a suddenly guarded expression. Some dark emotion flitted behind hazel eyes as she examined her daughter.

"Albus." She spoke quietly, terse voice barely above a murmur. Katrina Raines looked at her daughter sharply, eyes hard. "I would suggest you stay away from this Riddle boy." It was not a request, but a command.

"You will need to floo over to Diagon Alley and purchase the items on your school list. I will send you money, as well as enough for a small treat, with the elf before you leave." A soft _whooshing_noise, and the woman had turned on a dime and was out the door, cloak flapping angrily at her heels.

Her mother hadn't even wished her only daughter a 'happy birthday'.

Struggling with immense confusion, Silveriat gazed over the letter once again, wondering if she'd missed something that could explain her mother's sudden exit. She realized she had skipped the post script before, and scanned it now with haste.

_(P.S. Hunton will await your reply before departing.)  
_**  
** So that was why the owl hadn't left yet. Hunton hooted softly, his eyes expectant. Silveriat turned to the large brown tawny with a sigh. The postscript hadn't told her anything.

"I expect you'll be wanting your answer now, huh Hunton?" Silveriat's voice was dismal, and she shook her head in an attempt to clear the cloudy emotion that choked her throat. She could have expected as much from her mother, but _why_had she turned so cold? Hunton continued to stare in response.

Struggling not to dwell on the matter, Silveriat shuffled somewhat miserably over to her mahogany desk, grabbed a stray quill with parchment, and _almost _scribbled a 'no, sorry' back to Dumbledore. She stopped with her quill in mid-stroke and grimaced. Did she really _have_to listen to her mother this time? Silveriat bit her lip, torn with indecision.

How would she know who her daughter's friends were? It wasn't like she'd be seeing her all that much. A thrill of excitement shot through Silveriat's chest at the thought. Dumbledore had said it was important, too… With this, she made her decision, green eyes flashing with determination.

Disregarding eleven years of careful obedience, Silveriat Raines pursed her lips and lowered the eagle-feather quill back to the parchment. The single downward stroke for an 'n' quickly morphed into an 'M' as she scrawled—

_Mr. Dumbledore,_

_Thank you very much, sir! I look forward to starting term at Hogwarts this September. As for Mr. Riddle, I would love to accept this task… I'm sure Tom will be a nice friend._

_Thanks,_

_Silveriat Raines_

After quickly scanning the parchment once, Silveriat curled up her response and held it out to Hunton. The owl clamped it tightly in his dark beak before taking off out the window, silent wings beating the air as he shrunk to a mottled dot on the horizon.

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**Thoughts, comments, concerns? It gets more exciting soon [at least _I_ think it does ;p ], so tell me what ya'll think in a review.  
Thanks!  
-LeopardGecko**


	2. Enigmowl

**Thanks to everyone who added this story to their alerts! :) It goes greatly appreciated. And thanks to xXCookieCrumbsXx and Stromsten for reviewing.  
****This chappie's a bit longer, but I am kinda proud of the intro into it- kinda how they open up some movie scenes with a wide angle sweep.  
**  
**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the original characters from the series that may show up in this writing._**

_x-x-x-x-x-x_

Hunton the owl flapped his wings twice, angling them toward the mid-morning sun as he sped away. A heavy updraft threatened to carry him off-course, and he clamped harder on the parchment tucked away in his beak. Below him the city of London bustled, its many muggle inhabitants teeming through the streets. Hunton swooped toward the ground, pulling thickly feathered wings in close. Bits of muggle conversation reached the owls sensitive ears as he flew sideway along a tall line of buildings.

"—way things are going this war will never end—"

"—so _tall!_ Did you hear what he said to—?"

"—look up! D'you—!" Hunton threw out his wings to catch the air, flapping several times to lift himself above the rooftops. He angled east, steadying himself as the air shuddered, like passing through an invisible barrier.

The scene below suddenly changed. A crowded, bustling, cobblestone street replaced the dreary grey road that had just been there. People in cloaks shuffled about, disappearing into a variety of close-set shops along the main street. From the sky, Hunton caught a glimpse of a roaring emerald fire blazing merrily within the Leaky Cauldron. It was out of this fire that a small girl stumbled, tripping over the grate and clutching her elbows tightly.

* * *

Silveriat spluttered violently, coughing up a stinging mouthful of inhaled ashes whilst dusting soot from her fine black robes. _Why_ her mother had insisted on garbing the girl in now-ashes dress robes was beyond her. Wiping her feet, the blonde trudged over to a roughly circular table, rubbing her neck self-consciously as it prickled. She knew the dingy pub was crowded with witches and wizards on a regular basis—someone was bound to be watching—but looked up in spite of herself.

Her green eyes were shocked to meet those of a scrawny, dark-haired boy who glared at her with a dubious expression. Silveriat smiled uncertainly at him, shyness marring the gesture. He looked away quickly, turning the force of his gaze on too-big shoes. She noticed his clothes looked shabby and aged on his thin frame, but also so _odd_. The young witch had never even seen such things on a wizard before; the boy was wearing _muggle_ clothes. Suddenly, he looked back up, dark eyes boring into her. Now it was _her _turn to glance away, cheeks burning for being caught gawking.

Silveriat turned away quickly, ducking through the crowd until she reached a small wooden door at the back. She shot a glance at the spot the boy had stood, receiving a jolt when she found he was no longer there. Unsettled, she turned her eyes forward again and rushed out the door—only to be met with a tiny, weed-filled yard. Sunlight poured abundantly into the space, illuminating its contents with the golden touch of spring. A line of dirty trashcans piled along the foot of a towering wall gleamed, sending flashes of silver in every direction.

"Huh." Silveriat plunged a small hand into the pocket of her robes, pulling out an ancient wand. From the tip, the end of something fiery and red peeked out, framed by a light, silvery wood. The wand was beautiful, yet decrepit. Thin cracks fissured up and down the shaft, making the Raines family heirloom nearly useless for channeling magic. Silveriat didn't mind though—trotting right over the scattered stones in the yard, she tapped the wall smartly with the wood. From the moment the wand contacted the brick, the sun-washed red stone had begun to melt away. Silveriat envisioned the heat of the sun causing the brick to drip away like ice cream, revealing the majestic archway beneath. '_DIAGON ALLEY' _blazed down at her, the metal-framed words caught shining in the light of a still-climbing sun.

She backed up broadly to admire the image, and promptly stepped into someone who had been standing behind her.  
Silveriat whirled around; horror dawning on her face in a way so unladylike her mother surely would have reprimanded her.

"S-sorry," she stuttered out. The person she had run into, a boy who couldn't have been much older than she was, pursed his lips and looked at her scathingly. His hair was dark, black like the jets that screamed overhead in muggle air-raids. Cold, grey eyes examined her carefully for a brief moment.

"It's okay." His voice was so cold Silveriat could almost feel herself shiver. She resisted the urge to scoff and throw a stab at his shabby mugg-

Wait.

This was the staring boy from the Leaky Cauldron. A dozen possible responses flew to mind, but she decided to start with just asking who he was.

"Why were you staring at me?" _Oops_. He looked at her, an expression of curiosity blazing across his face before disappearing into apathy.

"You came out of fire," he said slowly, "_green_ fire." Silveriat tried quite unsuccessfully not to gape.

"So? Haven't you ever heard of the floo network?" She could have sworn his pale cheeks reddened a little, and the shake of his head was nearly imperceptible.

"No."

"Oh." She was shocked. _Maybe I should be nicer to him_. She frowned, realizing her approach had been rather rude. "Well... It's sorta like a portkey, but you use a fireplace instead. Plus you have to buy floo powder." She recoiled when she noted a flash of frustration in those dark eyes. Did he not know _anything?_ "P-portkeys, y'know? You touch one and it transports you somewhere else?" He shook his head again, glaring at Silveriat with an angry glint that dared her to ask 'why'. She suddenly had an idea.

"Well, come on then. I'll show you some cool stuff. Are you starting Hogwarts this year?" He just nodded, glancing at her suspiciously before following as she practically skipped through the archway. "Okay, so floo powder," she began, leading him past a line of vividly colored shops, "is used to travel. It's this bright green stuff you throw in a fire and—"She paused to see his reaction. He seemed to be hanging on to every word, eyes intent. Silveriat smiled to herself. "—and say where you want to go. Then you just step in and it takes you there."

Behind her the boy furrowed his brow slightly, thinking her words over carefully before giving his answer.

"I'm guessing there's some kind of government to supervise this?" he questioned mildly. Silveriat turned and pulled a face at him before smiling.

"Yeah," she said slowly, "the Ministry of Magic. But they're not too interesting."

"How?" he asked quickly, a hungry look on his face.

"They can trace magic, if they want to. It's simple. That's how they knew someone like _you_ is a wizard," she replied mildly, eyeing his odd clothes. His cheeks colored slightly once again, but this time he threw a dagger to her skepticism.

"And what's wrong with not knowing as much abound magic as you do?" he demanded, gaze hardening. Silveriat felt a jolt of surprise at the question. She really didn't have an answer.

"Well... I—my parents always act like something is," she said uncertainly, realizing even as she spoke that the observation was true. Why, though? The boy looked the same, talked the same, and really even acted the same as _all_ the witches and wizards her parents brought over. _What's the big deal then?_ she wondered to herself.

"So what do _you_ act like?" he questioned, looking at her sharply.

"I dunno. I've never thought about it before now," she said quickly, feeling suddenly reluctant to continue talking. He stared at her in stony silence however, quietly demanding she take a side. Silveriat realized they had stopped, and crumbled to his challenging glare. "I can't really see why it matters," she admitted uncomfortably, "We all start from square one at Hogwarts, anyway. Everyone learns the same stuff." The boy just nodded as an answer, but Silveriat could have sworn she'd just missed a satisfied smirk cross his face. A tense pause hung in the air between the two as he considered her.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly. Silveriat's tension fell away like dust at the surprisingly amiable gesture, blowing away to float in the breeze.

"Silveriat." She offered him a small smile, hoping he might return the gesture. The boy really did look like he needed to lighten up, if she was honest with herself. A flicker of amusement flickered across his pale face, and Silveriat felt herself go red as she realized why. "Something wrong with it?" she demanded defensively. The boy's amusement seemed to grow even more at this, dancing in his eyes now.

"It's not exactly _conventional_, but it's alright I suppose. Don't be surprised when you get teased," he warned with a shrug.

"_When_ I get teased," she repeated blandly. _At least he's honest... _The boy smirked. Silveriat rolled her eyes. "Alright then, what's yours?"

"Tom," he said stiffly, as if he didn't like the sound of it at all. Silveriat's heart jumped to her throat. _No,_ she thought disbelievingly.

"_Tom R-?_" she stopped abruptly, and tried quickly to cover her mistake. "Er—Raines," she put in quickly, praying it would suffice. But the damage was already done. His curiosity burned into her like fresh embers, but he chose not to question her on the slip.

"No," he said softly, looking at her hard, "Riddle." Silveriat smiled, a strained smile, fighting to keep her expression calm. Her heart seemed to have leapt right out of her chest and onto the cobblestone street below. _That sure didn't take long,_ she thought to herself frantically.

"Do you like owls?" she blurted out suddenly. _Oh my God. Could this get any worse?_ To her credit though, Riddle seemed slightly put off by the question. His cool demeanor recovered almost instantly however, and he jumped to answer her question smoothly.

"Aside from the fact that I've never seen one in person? I suppose so. Intelligent creatures." Silveriat stared at him for a fraction of a second, wondering how in the world he _possibly_ hadn't seen an owl before, when she remembered his muggle clothes. Her face positively lit up with excitement.

"Oh, come on then, Tom! You'll love this!" Without even checking to see if he was following, she raced off, pushing headlong through the crowd as she went. The towering adults around her rumbled discontentedly as she split apart their conversations, muttering about "wild kids these days". Silveriat couldn't help but snort.

At last, she screeched to a halt outside of Eyelops Owl Emporium. The ancient wooden building loomed above, casting her in shadow and tilting at an angle so precarious it _must_ have been held up by magic. The girl scanned the crowd behind her breathlessly for Riddle, grinning as he emerged from a rather haggard group of bent old warlocks. He looked disgruntled, glaring at Silveriat reproachfully from beneath his shock of haphazard jet hair. Silveriat laughed sweetly, turning to revel in the soft harmony of hooting that was just audible above the buzz of the crowd.

"This," she began grandly, "is Eyelops." He quirked an eyebrow and she grinned back. "Your one-stop shop for owls." Riddle's eyes widened ever so slightly, and Silveriat couldn't help but notice the way the sun caught them and made them to shine like some type of grey diamond. With an approving glance at his awe, she slipped quietly across the threshold.

The melody of hooting instantly grew louder, and Silveriat felt more than saw the gazes of many birds turn on her. She laughed, a sharp, musical trill that was lost among rustles of wings and clicks of beaks. Riddle entered behind her, barley concealing his amazement as his head turned to look every which way.

"Aren't they _wonderful_, Tom?" she questioned dazedly. The skinny girl reveled in the atmosphere of the store, all too aware of how her mother had always forbid her entrance in the past.

"So _many_," he said, feigning boredom. Silveriat scoffed, having caught his bluff before the boy had even walked through the door. As she did so, her eyes passed over a particularly odd-looking barn owl. Rather than the typical tan that speckled their backs, this owl was painted as if by midnight herself. Dark eyes glared around imperiously at the other owls, framed by brilliant strokes of copper slashed across the bird's facial disk. Silveriat gasped and dashed up to the counter, immediately tugging at her money pouch. The wizard at the counter beamed down at her broadly, revealing a row of marginally crooked teeth.

"What can I get ya' lass?" His voice was curious, a bellow softened in the presence of the numerous night's children surrounding it. Silveriat pointed expectantly at the black barn.

"That one," she breathed. The man laughed a hearty laugh that shook him from shoulder to toe.

"He's mean, that bird there. Sure a lil' girlie like you could handle him?" Silveriat did not look deterred, but her eyes narrowed slightly at the term 'girlie'.

"That's okay," she said pointedly, "I'm sure all he needs is some love." The shopkeeper appeared to seriously doubt this, but pulled out a slick black wand from behind the counter nonetheless. He pointed it at the owl, who perched unsuspecting.

"Accio!" The bird shot down to the wizard's hand, flapping its wings angrily and screeching furiously at the sudden displacement. As the shopkeeper stuffed the bird into a handsome gold cage, the owl snapped its beak fiercely, managing to knick the tip of his finger. Silveriat's eyes widened at the owl's aggressive display. She suddenly felt daunted as it turned hateful black eyes upon its new owner.

"8 galleons for him," the shopkeeper crowed, speaking in an _I-told-you-so_ sort of tone as he nursed his finger. Silveriat nodded placidly and counted out the coins, eyeing the older man sharply. Riddle took the opportunity to come up behind her at the counter and examine her new owl with interest.

"D'you want one?" Silveriat asked kindly, turning to him. He looked faintly taken aback.

"Why?" he asked, looking at her strangely.

"They send letters, of course. They're—"

"No. _Why_ would you buy one for me?" he interrupted impatiently, voice cool.

"Oh. Uh—" Silveriat hesitated for a moment. She certainly didn't think it would be wise to tell him about Dumbledore's letter. "I don't mind, really. I've got plenty..." Riddle narrowed his eyes at her dangerously, clearly not buying her lie. He hesitated, however, considering the offer.

"Sure," he said cautiously, "thank you." Silveriat smiled yet again, not quite sure how to answer him. She herself wasn't so sure, and doubted her mother would approve. Mrs. Raines didn't approve of pets—especially not owls. _It doesn't matter though_, she told herself quickly,_ it's for something '_important._'_

"Um. Which one?" She gestured to the numerous owls that filled the room as the shopkeeper watched them carefully. He had quieted down considerably since their conversation. _Probably hoping for another sale_, she mused.

Riddle gazed around the room, punctiliously examining each individual owl. Tawny Owls dominated the population, she noticed, with more than two dozen amber eyes peering down to them. Two other owls stood out from the rest of the peck, feathers were blindingly white amongst the sea of mottled brown. It reminded Silveriat of a _Lumos _spell with the way the owls seemed ignited amongst the rest.

"Silveriat. Look up there," directed Riddle, nodding at the larger white owls.

"Yeah, they're Snowy Owls. Pretty, but bloody expensive too," she muttered, feeling slightly disgruntled. She'd buy Tom an owl without complaint, but she at least had hoped he wouldn't pick the most expensive.

"15 galleons apiece. And watch what comes out of that mouth, missy!" interrupted the shopkeeper roughly. Silveriat resisted the urge to shoot him a nasty look, while the corner of Riddle's mouth twitched upward. He watched her keenly though, gauging her reaction to the heavy price. She let out a faint noise of protest, and sighed.

"Oh, alright. We'll take one." The shopkeeper looked immensely pleased at the sale, as did Riddle. She pushed 15 more golden coins over the countertop, watching glumly as he caged one of the massive snowy birds—a male with several dark spots barred across its breast.

"He'll be able to carry anything for ya', lad," he tipped his pointed hat to Riddle," and thank ya' much for the purchase. Have a good 'un."

Hours later, the pair had finished shopping at last. Each hefted their own large cauldron, full of supplies and nearly overflowing with odd tidbits such as eel eyes, fresh new wizard's robes, feather quills, and books with strange names such as _Tallikan's Guide to Transfiguration Training._ Silveriat's new owl had slipped into a coma-like doze, dark head sheltered beneath one elegant wing.  
The sun had risen high over the noon sky by the time the pair returned to the Leaky Cauldron, and both eleven-year-olds were running considerably low on change. Silveriat hadn't minded helping Riddle out with some of his pricier supplies, but gulped as she envisioned her mother's reaction. With a sigh, she turned to the corner of the pub, Riddle in step behind. The girl smiled wistfully, almost wishing he could come with her; despite his oddity, Silveriat considered Riddle better than the pureblood bigots her mother often invited over.

"Write me, will you?" she asked, turning to the boy. They had arrived at the hearth of the fireplace, and Silveriat busied herself digging for a small jar within the depths of her pocket. He gave her a look of confusion as the fire crackled merrily.

"How d—" he began, but Silveriat cut him off quickly. Her mother had said to be home by twelve, and it was late afternoon by now. She found the jar, half full of emerald powder, and removed the lid.

"You'll figure it out—don't worry," she said, tossing a handful of the green dust to the flames. It hung suspended like tiny, dazzling jewels for a moment before the fire erupted into a green blaze. "Just tell your owl my name, and he'll find me," the blonde called, stepping right into the fire. "Raines Manor!" With her last words the flames gave an angry roar and leapt up to engulf her. By the time they had died down to the usual orange, she had disappeared completely.

_x-x-x-x-x-x_

**R&R! Tell me what ya'll think, por favor.  
Updates probably not gonna be daily. I just had this written and was sorta impatient to get it out there. :)  
-LeopardGecko**


	3. All Bottled Up

**Thank you to Frustration for reviewing, it's greatly appreciated, and I'm glad you like it. :)  
**  
******_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the original characters from the series that may show up in this writing.  
_**___  
x-x-x-x-x-x_******_  
_**

A slim golden-haired girl in dusted dress robes gingerly stepped over the grate of Raines Manor, struggling to maintain poise amongst the sting of ash and flames. To nobody's surprise but her own, Silveriat's mother hovered over the girl's delicate approach with a scornful eye. The blonde tilted her chin upward cautiously to meet her mother's gaze, a wry grimace flashing across her features. The woman's narrow, angular face betrayed a shock of hot surprise as she took sight of her daughter's purchases.

"_Silveriat!" _she hissed angrily, "What have you _done, _bringing a beast like that in the house?" She suddenly appeared quite flustered, looking distinctly out of place in the collected atmosphere of the home. "You go put that nasty creature in your room this instant, girl! And make that scrounge of hair presentable while you're at it." She stood her ground, hesitant of her mother's harsh drawl.

"_Now," _the older woman tacked on forcefully. With a scowl, Silveriat obliged, yanking her cauldron behind her angrily as she went.

"And you can wipe that ugly look off your face, young lady!"

* * *

After stowing the enigma of a barn owl in her room, Silveriat trounced down the wooden staircase in a sleeved crimson dress. She halted at the flickering murmur of voices behind a large, paneled oak door composed with dark, majestic wood. With one last pat and a final gasp of air within the tight garment, she turned the polished golden knob.

"Miss Raines! What a pleasure it is to see you!" Mimosa Brown's flowery voice broke the sudden silence that had washed over the group. Silveriat beamed at the woman, directing a curtsey at the chestnut curlicues that hung from Mimosa's shoulders.

"The pleasure could only be mine, Lady Brown," she answered fervently, pushing the brightness in her voice. Beside Mimosa sat the Lord Brown and their son Watson, both handsome men possessing a freckle of dark hair across their foreheads. Silveriat could only register relief as she turned to greet Mr. Brown with another polite curtsey—The Malfoys and Blacks were absentees at the moment. From her perch on a fat black armchair positioned next to Mimosa's, Mrs. Raines let out a measured trill of laughter, suddenly turned charming in the presence of another pureblood family.

"Why, little Silveriat is maturing into quite the young lady, isn't she, Mimosa?" she inquired lightly, allowing just a slice of pride into her voice for the Brown's good.

"Oh _indeed_, Katrina. She's getting a bit tall though, isn't she? Do you think she'll take more after Richard, hm?" she responded delicately, casting an analysts' eye over the eleven-year-old in question. Silveriat tried hard not to fidget, aware of _exactly_ what was going on. Mr. Raines found this a good moment to cut into the conversation.

"She is quite poised for a girl of her age—impressively so. Certainly knows her place as well. I would grant myself the pleasure of saying we have raised her well indeed." Mimosa fell into a respectful silence at Richard's words, instead settling to watch the battle of words rising to a storm.

"I'd have to agree on that one, Richard, chuckled Mr. Brown. "Pretty too. I'm sure she'll be a fine young lady in only a matter of years." Richard Raines looked extremely pleased at this announcement, and despite herself Silveriat caught a blush painting itself in strokes across her cheeks. Across the room Watson smiled smugly at the Raines' reaction and cast a pointed glance at Silveriat, who felt her blush transform from rose to magenta in seconds.

"Father, isn't she starting Hogwarts this year?" asked the boy perkily, an air of superiority permeating his inquiry. Silveriat couldn't help but smile a little bit, amused that he found being right so pleasing.

"Yes, Miss Raines is beginning the year with you, Watson," Mr. Brown answered smoothly with a chuckle slightly _too _knowing for Silveriat, "Isn't that right, Katrina?"

Silveriat watched passively as the conversation was juggled between the adults, interrupted only at rare intervals by Watson, who seemed to wish for a direction focused on their schooling. It came as a jolt then, when Mr. Brown suddenly asked _her_ a question, something she certainly hadn't been prepared for in a strictly political conversation dancing the edges of a future engagement possibility.

"Which house are you hoping to be sorted in, hmm Miss Raines?" The blonde gave a slight start, foot twitching in surprise at the unexpected addressing. She blushed pinkly when she realized her hair wasn't pinned up quite properly for company, and out of the blue she was _too_ aware of Watson's handsome green gaze from across the room.

"G-Slytherin, I'd think," she began quickly, remembering with a mental slap that her mother would most certainly not approve of the bold and spirited lion's den house. "Ravenclaw, er, wouldn't be a bad choice either, in my opinion." Her stomach clenched nervously as she realized what she'd said.

_Ravenclaw, really Silver? When girls aren't exactly _supposed_ to exhibit intelligence?  
_  
"It would show respectable wizards that I'm intelligent enough a lady to act proper in public, wouldn't it?" she added cheerily, internally praying that the humor injected into her voice would be enough to save the situation. From the chair next to Mimosa, Katrina Raines quietly appeared livid, sending secret daggers at her daughter behind pleasantly masked interest. To her credit though, Mr. Brown let out a hearty laugh, the deepened sound of it booming relief to all occupants trapped within the lavish room.

"Witty too!" Mr. Brown laughed again, "Oh yes, she'll be a _fine_young woman one day soon! Knows how to hold her tongue, and just how to use it when she's asked as well!" Katrina smiled broadly, letting out the rather huffy breath she'd been holding as a laugh. Richard beamed his regard to the comment as well, appraising Mr. Brown with a heavily approving gaze. Silveriat released all the breath in her lungs as soon as she wasn't being watched, closing her eyes in enjoyment as the cool feeling of absolute relief shivered through her veins.

From his post beside his father, Watson smirked at Silveriat with a wry little smile, winking when she caught him looking and blushed.

* * *

"But Mum! He won't even _be_ here most of the time!" Silveriat protested lividly. Katrina's lips were pursed very tightly, and her daughter wondered where they could have gone to look so thin like that.

"Excuse me? Absolutely _not!_ You know the rule about animals in this house, and you would do well to keep it!" Mrs. Raines shot back, outraged at her daughter's blatant disrespect. Silveriat's heart sunk. How much had she spent on the bird yesterday? Quite a few galleons, if she remembered correctly.

"Oh Mum _please_ let me keep him. You won't even realize there's an owl here, I promise. They don't smell! And I'll take care of him," she promised fervently, "He'll just sleep during the day and be off hunting at night, really." Silveriat's green eyes were wide, brow scrunched slightly with her pleading expression. It was exactly the same look Katrina gave Richard when she wanted something badly from a store. Her mother grimaced, indecision flashing briefly across her face.

"Sweetheart, why don't you just let her have the silly animal?" interrupted Richard Raines, striding into the room with a slightly befuddled expression. "If I see for one second you aren't taking care of that beast, mess included," he said, turning to his daughter, "I will make sure myself that you never see it again. Am I understood?" Silveriat sucked in breath through her nose and grinned, the smile sliding across her face as easily as water through a child's hands.

"Of course, Father! I'll make sure he's the cleanest owl you ever coulda met!" she exclaimed, rushing the words in her excitement. Richard let out a breath of laughter, blue eyes closing in sync with a brief smile at his little girl's reaction.

"You ever could meet, Silveriat," he corrected gently. Behind his back, Katrina rolled her eyes before sending her daughter a superior look that clearly said _'you idiot'. _The blonde chose to ignore this particular taunt and dipped her head to her father.

"The first thing you can do with him is name him, and then write a thank you to the Browns for attending our get-together last evening and the gracious compliments they gave you." Silveriat nodded again.

"Yes father," she responded. Richard gave a short nod and turned to leave the room, followed at a more leisurely pace by his wife.

"And do make sure you actually do what you're told, Silveriat," she intoned softly, menace darkening the tone that Richard would never hear used on his daughter.

* * *

To say the least, the heart of an eleven-year-old was hurting. That strange, silly sort of pain that is not only in your head but is also quite tangible in your chest. While she had been hungry just minutes before, her stomach felt hollow and empty, yet its appetite was gone—dust in the wind.

Silveriat Raines was quite sad.

She sat on the edge of her bed, blonde hair draped in curtains about her face. Even some of its golden shimmer seemed to have died out. With a shaky breath, she dared herself to look up and face the world for what it was. She stood. One step. Two steps—she faltered.

_Why does my mother hate me so much?_A tear loosened itself from the corner of a single green eye, singing a lament of sorrow as the drop fell to what could only be certain death.

_'Splotch!'  
_  
She sighed, fighting back the sting of more tears. She simply wasn't allowed to cry, she was strong, she was brave, she was _different._  
_Is that it?_ thought the girl hollowly, yet unable to ignore the spark of hope with which such a thought was directed at her wood paneled ceiling. _It is,_something tiny told her, something significant. She gathered the courage to take another step forward. Across the room her new owl, the owl she was allowed to keep, hooted quite softly, watching her with fierce charcoal eyes. Despite herself, the girl smiled wryly back at the bird.

"You're not afraid, are you, boy?" she asked aloud, eyes gleaming at the thought. The bird was strong, he was indignant, and he was proud. It reminded her of a hippogriff, really. The owl hooted back, loudly, the sound trumpeting across the room to declare his evident bravery. Silveriat's smile broadened, and as it did a sliver of pain slipped unnoticed out of her heart.

"I'm going to be strong like you, I'm going to be… courageous." The owl blinked slowly back. It tilted its entire head sideways, ruffling his wings as if a breeze had passed through. The right half of Silveriat's face scrunched up in an expression of amusement.

"That was weird, little guy." At this the owl huffed, puffing out its feathers so the bird's chest appeared about twice the size of what could be called 'normal'. Silveriat actually let out a laugh.

"You're funny. Funny and brave, I rather like you. I know what I'm going to call you now, see? How's 'Bottle' sound?" The owl didn't seem to object, but it didn't exactly react to her question either. Silveriat repeated her face, shaking her head slightly in amusement. The owl, Bottle, had simply ducked his head to begin plucking at an old feather shaft beneath the wing.

She gave a soft, somewhat watery smile at her owl again. What had her father said? She pushed the memory of her mother's closing words away with a frown as the recollection resurfaced in her mind. She was to be courageous. The girl turned away, remembering suddenly what he'd needed—a thank you to the Browns for their 'gracious' company the night before, right. She pushed her curtain of hair back behind one ear, striding with what she hoped was purpose to the desk. Perhaps if she acted strong, she'd feel like it too. With a gasp, she stumbled forward the rest of the way to the wooden desk against the wall, catching herself clumsily with outstretched hands.

She'd have to work on that.

Grabbing a sheaf of parchment from a nearby pile, Silveriat picked up a quill and began to write as neatly as she could, stopping occasionally only to dab the tip of her snowy white feather into the inkwell, staining the tip midnight once again. For a little while, the only sound in the room that could be heard was the scribble of a hollow feather tip on parchment, echoing around the blue walls. As the lines of carefully spaced text grew to fill the page, Bottle dipped his head beneath a dark wing in slumber and the late morning bled into the afternoon.

Once finished, the girl looked over her work with green eyes narrowed to catch any mistake. Finding none in the thank you address, she smiled to herself and rolled it up tightly, sealing it with nothing more than a length of hefty blue string.

"Bottle! Come here for a moment, please?" she called, not unkindly, to the slumbering barn within the golden cage. The handsome owl lifted its head to face her, eyes bleary and half-opened. With a disgruntled hoot, the bird hopped through the door of its open cage and fluttered over to her, ruffling his feathers importantly even as he landed on the desk beside her. Silveriat beamed at him, reaching a hand towards the owl's leg as she did so. Her grin did not last long; Bottle hooted fiercely at her and snapped his beak at the finger that had been there only seconds before.

"Bloody hell, Bottle! What was that for?" she questioned savagely, giving the bird a very dirty glare. The owl ignored her and began to tend to its feathers again, stopping every few seconds to look at the parchment on the desk. Silveriat simply stared.

"Is that what you want? Well why don't you let me _give_ it to you, genius?" she snapped. Bottle clicked his beak together with a sharp snap, swiveling his head to glare right back at his owner. The stare down lasted only seconds, ending after Bottle, who seemed quite fed up with the situation, swooped down to snap up the letter and took off, soaring right through her open window.

"It's for the Browns, Bottle!" she cried half-heartedly after him. With a sigh, she turned away from the window, the events of the previous day suddenly racing through her mind like wildfire. The letter to Hogwarts—she grinned at this—, the mysterious letter from Dumbledore and her shock at finding its subject in Diagon Alley, and the visit with Watson and the Browns. She furrowed her brow, contemplating the rather busy day. Excitement jolted through her gut at the thought of finally going to Hogwarts. She would make real friends and learn magic at last—an instinctive feeling of _home_crossed the path of her thoughts, even though she hadn't even been there yet.

Tom would be there too, she realized, as well as Dumbledore. Perhaps he would be able to explain the oddity of a letter to her once she got there.

_Yes, that'll be what I do. I'll go straight to Dumbledore and figure everything out. Speaking of Tom though…_ Silveriat suddenly recalled her last words to the dark-haired boy, and a feeling of guilt washed over her as she realized he _probably_wouldn't be able to figure out the wizarding postage system. He'd worn muggle clothes after all, meaning he likely had no clue about the world of magic until recently. She pondered for a moment about how he must have felt to learn—was he excited? Fearful? Perhaps a little of both—and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought. Life without magic sounded absolutely repulsive.

With that, she resolved to write the boy first and find out a little more about him.

_Maybe I can even teach him about the magical world so he won't get hit by a train at Hogwarts_, she though cheerfully, pulling out yet another sheaf of parchment.

_Dear Tom_, she wrote,

_I hope all is well with you. I'm sure you must be excited for September, with term starting and all. Is it fascinating, the idea of magic when you've never known about it before?  
_  
She paused, unsure of how to continue. A million possible questions popped into her mind, but she didn't want to offend him with something out of place or insensitive.

_I'm sure Hogwarts will feel like home, Tom. If you don't mind, what's your family like? Mine's what you call purebloods. We're basically a bunch of wizards who never married muggles –non magical folks—in our entire line. Impressive, I guess. We get to have all these fancy meetings in fancy clothes and talk about fancy affairs and what not. I kind of wonder what a real—_she stopped, crossed out the world 'real' with a grimace, and continued. –_what a__different family is like. Maybe you can tell me?_

Hope to hear from you soon,

Silveriat Raines

P.S. To write back just tell your owl who to give your letter to and he'll take right off with it.

_Literally, _she thought with a grin. She scanned the letter once over, shocked by how informal it sounded, even to her.  
_  
_ _He's not a pureblood though, maybe it won't matter to him,_ she thought uneasily. She debated silently for a second, unsure of whether or not to trash the letter and start again. Because truly, some hidden piece of her wanted someone, a real live _friend_, that she could be herself with. With what had to be the hundredth sigh of the day, she settled back into her hard-backed chair and curled the letter up. Yet even as she tied the finishing knot, Silveriat couldn't help but wonder and dread who 'herself' would really become away from 'home' her at the Raines Manor.

_x-x-x-x-x-x_

**So yeah, this chapter wasn't the speediest of paces. It has a lot of important set up details though, so that I can actually start picking up with plot action. More exciting things will happen in the next chapters, I believe this is the last 'set up' I'm doing.  
****Also, extra cookies [as in I'll let you name a future character] to anyone who can tell me what a courageous owl and the name 'Bottle' have anything to do with each other. :D I'll give you a hint- google both the definitions of 'courageous' and Bottle. **


	4. Letters From Tom

**Whoo, okay, so, it's been a very long time since my last update. I apologize tremendously, and while fully understanding it's not much of an excuse, I've been swamped in a number of things such as my job, summer reading and homework assignments, taking and obtaining SAT/ACT scores and sending them off, as well as researching college and career options for my future. Yay life.  
On that note, I'll be going on vacation next week, which means I get some serious flight and airport hours on the trips to and from—and possibly a little in between, but don't get your hopes up since it's a cruise, hah—on both ends. So in short, updates will be more frequent. Review responses can be found at the bottom of this.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**  
Silveriat awoke the following Saturday to a familiar _clickscratchscreech _on her luminous window pane. Her eyes flew wide, pupils darting toward the noise, yet remained stock still in bed.  
After all, she'd already been accepted into Hogwarts once, right?  
Following a few cautious moments of silence, the girl slighted her head to the left, eyes peeking from behind suspicious lids at the sight they were drawn too. What greeted the pair of green glass spheres however, melted the tension from her body and allowed Silveriat to sit up comfortably as a sleepy smile grace rosy lips.  
"Hullo there," she murmured quietly, as much to the handsome Snowy perched outside as to the dawn. With only a stumble or two, Silveriat made her way to the window and let the owl in, where it lingered anxiously for a few treats before depositing its letter and swooping away once more.  
Silveriat ripped open the envelope without a second glance, pulling out a rather thin piece of parchment—wait no. What _was_ this stuff? The blonde nearly did a double take, stopping to stare blankly at the odd material in front of her.  
_That's a little odd,_ she thought blearily while taking in the pristinely white substance. The material that the letter had been written on [_It's from Tom!_ she thought, heart pounding rather harder than necessary at the thought] reminded her distinctly of the frosty, snow-covered nights that drenched London during the winter. The 'parchment' was smooth and pale, striped to the foot by much too straight horizontal lines and a single strip of vertical pink marking an edge cut evenly by three circular holes. She gaped for a moment longer, made a mental note to question Tom about it later, and promptly began to read.

_Silveriat_, the mudblood boy's handwriting was rather neat and concise. The blonde thought the penmanship seemed odd as well, but couldn't place a finger on what exactly struck her as different.

_I've figured out this great bird of yours. He's interesting enough, but certainly not like my corn snake. _Corn snake? Silveriat thought with confusion. She'd heard of Serpices and Tenting Snakes before, but never a _corn_ snake. _Do they eat corn, then?_ she wondered with a slight grin.  
_Mrs. Cole said I should thank you for the owl. She's the caretaker where I live, and seems to think he'll fly away and not come back when I send this. You'd better not be fooling me then, I hope. _  
Silveriat frowned at this, but not before noticing the undecipherable cross out immediately following 'caretaker'. The frown deepened.  
_I am well, and hope the same of you. Would you mind telling me anything about magic you know already?  
Regards,_

_Tom_

Silveriat's lip twitched upward. 'Anything' incidentally entailed a lot. More than enough for one letter's worth.  
She couldn't help but grin wickedly.  
The girl wasted no time at all in penning out her response, cat's eyes flashing with an earnestly excited glitter as she wrote.

_Hullo Tom!  
What, pray tell, is a corn snake? And how could they be special if even I've never heard of them? _she wrote quickly, rushing to put her thoughts down as they came. Revelation hit her like the Hogwarts Express, and she smirked with satisfaction as she scribbled her next words.  
_They're rare, aren't they? What do they do that's interesting, then? If you like snakes, have you ever heard of the Northern Brown Serpice? Oh and, you're welcome for the owl, _she continued, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Tom hadn't _actually_ thanked her, _Mother hopefully won't notice that I got more than one…  
Magic. There's so much to it! I really couldn't put it into just one letter, so how about you keep writing and I'll do my best?_

_Silveriat_

The girl very nearly threw her raven feather quill down, managing to splatter a few drips of ink everywhere as she nursed the cramp in her hand. Bright eyes roved across the letter, and she couldn't help but smile. Tom was... _mysterious_. For what threatened to be longer, Silveriat momentarily lost herself in recollection of their meeting at Diagon Alley.

_ Tom was a quick learner. By the end of the journey through the cobblestoned streets, the inky haired boy had adopted a professional's demeanor, glancing at the shops with an aloofness that impressed the girl as much as disappointed her. She'd wanted to show Tom _everything_, to lead the way through all the shops and watch his surprise grow with every twist.  
Well, she was still leading him as they headed toward Ollivander's, but his calm and confident stride certainly didn't match the buoyant happiness she'd been expecting. Even as they approached the shop, rustically wooden among the brighter and cleaner stones of other buildings, Silveriat found herself hurrying along beside a sharply aware young man rather than the youthful and excited boy she'd been expecting. Tom pushed the door open for Silveriat like a gentleman and she felt a blush coloring pale cheeks despite herself. _He's a muggle!_ the girl had reminded herself sharply.  
Inside, Tom's neutral expression had only flickered marginally at the sheer _aura_ of magical power surrounding them in the shop. It exuded from every corner shrouded in what was surely an unnatural shadow, and most powerfully yet from the barely visible outline of a door occupying the back wall. _

_ "Well, well, well… Young Miss Raines! You look so very much like your mother, Katrina…" The wispy voice had taken Silveriat by surprise and she'd jumped with fright, turning to face its owner with a fearful expression on her face and a pounding heart. Tom, on the other hand, merely pivoted to view the man who'd spoken, though when Silveriat looked close enough she could detect a certain tightness about his eyes. "Now, who is the gentleman kind enough to accompany you?" Mr. Ollivander inquired softly, turning his silvered gaze upon Tom. The muggle boy stared right back up at the greying man, eyes cool and hard. _

_ "My name is Tom, sir," he said, voice lowered respectfully as he answered the question for Silveriat. The blonde smiled awkwardly and fished for something to add, finally coming up with,_

_ "We were just getting our school supplies together, Mr. Ollivander." She could have slapped herself silly. Tom smirked and threw the embarrassed girl a sideways glance before taking over once again. _

_ "We were wondering, sir, if you might assist us in getting our wands?" Silveriat couldn't help but envy Tom's smooth demeanor, but the girl's cheeks still felt warm from her previous failure and decided to keep her mouth closed. Ollivander seemed to ignore this, but his attention had turned to Tom and the man studied the boy closely it was as if Merlin himself had risen from the dead to deem Tom his personal apprentice.  
A spike of awe-mangled jealousy run up Silveriat's spine. _

_ "Of course, of course… if you'd wouldn't mind stepping over here for me, please?" Silveriat stepped forward at once following the request, working hard to inject as much grace into the movement she possibly could. Tom walked nonchalantly behind her, eyes wandering intently around the shop before landing back on his companion. He smirked.  
Ollivander summoned two measuring tapes with a flick of his own wand (a handsome and deeply red one) both of which began winding themselves about odd parts of the eleven-year-olds' bodies. Silveriat's began with the length of her forearm and progressed to steadily more minute lengths such as the space between two fold of her ear. A fleeting smile crossed Ollivander's face as he caught her scrunching both nose and brow. _

_ "Yes, all helpful measurements, believe it or not, Miss Raines. Which is your wand arm now, if you don't mind letting me know?" _

_ "My right, sir," she responded immediately, shying up as she noticed Tom's intent gaze settling on her curiously. _

_ "What about you, Mr. ...?" Ollivander asked, nodding to Silveriat once before turning to Tom.  
"Riddle," he provided shortly. "My right as well, sir," he added on carefully, grey eyes flashing to Silveriat and back like lightning as he spoke. _

_ "Excellent, excellent… If you will excuse me for a moment…" With that, the aging man swept away into the back, disappearing among the shelves and shelves of narrow boxes pervading most of the floor space in the shop.  
__Following the span of tense silence drawn between her and Tom, Silveriat had been subjected to much, in her opinion, foolish wand waving until the 'right' wand chose her as its master. The feeling had left her stunned- as soon as the dark wood of the instrument has touched her hand, an indescribable feeling of warmth and _power_ had filled her veins to the brim. With an indicative flick, the young girl had sent a shower of brilliant silver sparks shattering across the gloom. Ollivander had beamed with a knowing look of approval, and Silveriat had been quite shocked to discover the grin plastered across her face after the event. _

The girl found herself grinning, and abandoned the letter on her desk in favor of finding the slick black box in her cauldron and pulling the beautiful dark wood out to admire. She'd been awarded with a gorgeous ebony wand, cored stringently to a majestic phoenix feather. The feather, Ollivander had noted, had been shed from a very young bird—although whatever that was supposed to mean Silveriat had no inkling. The girl licked the front of her teeth with her tongue thoughtfully. She had been 'considered', as Ollivander has put it, by a black walnut wand, but the core of dragon heart had simply not quite matched up with her.  
Tom's wand, on the other hand, had found him quickly—just in a matter of two or three trials with the failed 'suitors'. A ghostly white thing, his wand had been comprised of Yew and, to her surprise, phoenix feather as well. She smirked. They were opposites in every sense of the word, yet sharing something internally. With a longing sigh, Silveriat set her wand down and waltzed back to the mahogany desk to send off the letter. Start of term just could _not_ come soon enough for her.****

_**Frustration**_**—Thank you! I appreciate the support, and do actually intend to keep this up…No matter how long it takes! Finishing a story is one of the harder things for me personally. I'm great with starts, but I simply lose muse about two chapters in. I've done better with this than most others, and it's on the right track to keep going!  
**_**xXCookieCrumbsXx**_**—Thanks a whole lot! I do maybe kindasorta pride myself with the clever chapter names for now. ;)  
**_**xXbutterflykissesXx**_**—Haha, cute for now, but just wait til' she gets a little older! Thanks for the compliment on character development—I'm trying to make her seem as 'real' as possible without being boring. Believable, you know?  
**_**Elephante**_**—Thank you! Improvement is what we're all aiming for, huh? :] Glad you liked it.  
**_**Frustration**_**—Thanks for reviewing again, and well, you're kinda close, but not completely correct. 'Bottle' is actually a term used in British slang to mean mettle or courage. Basically, in American terms, you might see it to mean 'guts'… "That girl's got some guts!" :P Glad you liked the detail too, I worry a little bit about including too much sometimes.  
**_**ebonbon**_**—YES! I was so proud of that, I showed it to my boyfriend and pretty much his entire family too. xD  
**_**ebonbon**_**—Thanks! I think I'm starting to base Silveriat's emotions for Tom a little off someone I myself used to know at one point… You'll see more development on that later on as well.  
****bloopitybloop****—Best review ever. :D Hehe.  
****xXblapXx****— 3 Okay!  
****MyLordKovv****—Thanks for the offer! I might take you up on that. I'll be sure to put more action in it as well. This chapter is… more interesting in my opinion than the last ones, but I had to cut it short because what needs to happen next would make it too long. Stay patient for me please!  
****BlandImagination****—Can I hear a bell for the winner? Congrats. Way to uh, do your research. ;)  
****Bolin****—Pabuuuuuu 333 THANK YOU FOR AMAZING COMPLIMENT.  
**_**Azura Soul Reaver**_**—Thank you! Hopefully you'll continue to enjoy it as the plot progresses! :]  
**_**Alice2Epic**_**—You got it! Actually, it was this review that prompted me to hurry up and finish this three quarters of the way complete chapter and post it! :P**


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